


Various and Sundry Revelations

by EllenEmbee



Series: Revelations [4]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dragon Age Headcanons, Dragon Age Lore, Mages and Templars, Starkhaven, Starkhaven Circle, Starkhaven Circle fire, Templars, Templars (Dragon Age)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-03-26 09:00:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13854447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllenEmbee/pseuds/EllenEmbee
Summary: A place to put all the bits and pieces that don't fit in with the larger stories within the Revelations world state. Headcanons abound.





	1. Lucky (Rylen)

_Starkhaven Circle, 10 Drakonis, 9:32 Dragon_

"Maker's blood, Corbel, we'll grow old and die before you manage a good shuffle. Give 'em here."

Rylen plucked the deck from the hands of the slightly drunk templar to his left. With a few flicks of his wrist, Rylen deftly shuffled and cut the cards before handing them back to Corbel to deal.

"Oh, well 'scuse me if I didn't grow up tagging along with the infamous Ironside brothers and their infamous Wicked Grace 'tournaments.'"

Corbel's slight slurring undermined his snide tone, but still, the comment hit home. As the youngest of the reigning Ironside family, Rylen had rarely done more than annoy his older brothers with questions or sit in the corner shuffling cards during those so-called tournaments.

As a family, the Ironsides had distinguished themselves hundreds of years ago for their integral contributions to the original architecture of Starkhaven. All the stone for every major building, including the Chantry, had been quarried, intricately carved, precisely measured, cut and placed by Rylen's ancestors.

He'd left all that behind to do something useful, but the name followed him like a ragged cur, nipping at his heels and otherwise proving to be a royal pain in his arse. The other templars, especially those from the area, knew his surname, but he kept it quiet as much as possible.

Knight-Lieutenant Rylen. That was all anyone need ever call him again.

As the cards for the next hand piled up in front of each of the five templars at the table, Rylen grimaced. He quickly schooled his features into a neutral expression, however, as he'd learned long ago to ignore any mention of his family. The templar to Rylen's right, a Ser Galen, picked up his own cards, glanced at them and then immediately threw them back down in disgust.

"I can't catch a break tonight. I'm out."

"Can't take the heat, Galen?" Corbel razzed.

"I would take a decent _hand_ for once," Galen countered, "but you can't seem to _dish it out_."

Rylen and the other two templars, Sers Remi and Nyrene, snorted into their cards at the affronted look on Corbel's face. Corbel made an inappropriate finger gesture in Galen's direction as the other templar stood up and headed for the door. Rylen smacked Corbel upside the head before turning to call after Galen.

"No reason to get worked up over an empty-headed buffoon who can't properly deal cards to save his life. Come back. We'll re-deal."

But Galen shook his head, a good-natured smile on his face. "Thanks, but I've got an early patrol tomorrow." He walked out the door, but then popped his head back around the door frame. "I'll be sure to tell Knight-Captain Randall where you all are if I see him."

Nyrene chucked her empty wooden cup at his disappearing face and called after him, "Do that and you'll have no one to cover for you next time you get fall-on-your-face drunk before a Harrowing!"

A distant "Bah!" wafted back to them, and they all chucked softly. The small room where the five of them had gathered on their night off had started out years ago as a storage room, but as the templars had been gradually banned from openly congregating on off hours under the strict rules of Knight-Captain Randall, the room near the top of the tower had become a secret haven of sorts for them to blow off steam without losing their marbles.

"So, are we still playing or not?" Remi asked as she hiked her cards up a little closer to her face.

"Of course," Rylen responded immediately. "I'm not afraid of you, even if you do already have half my week's wages in that pile there."

He gestured to her veritable mountain of coin. She lovingly ran her fingers over her haul and quirked a seductive brow at him.

"If you're out of coin, we can always up the stakes."

Rylen smirked at her obvious meaning. It wouldn't be the first time he'd ended up in nothing but the skin the Maker gave him after a card game with Remi. Thing was, she always made it worth his while.

He was about to say something to that effect when muffled shouts reached his ears. The shouts got louder, accompanied now by the pounding of armored boots on stone stairs.

As one, the four templars pushed away from the table and began donning their gear as they rushed for the door. Rylen took an extra moment to buckle his sword around his waist and emerged from the room to find a frantic Galen pulling them down the hallway and talking a mile a minute.

"You have to hurry! We've got to get everyone out! It's too late to-"

"Woah, now," Rylen interrupted as he caught up and placed a steadying hand on Galen's shoulder. "Start from the beginning. What's-"

Galen was already shaking his head and moving away. "There's no time! We have to get out! The tower is on fire!"

Rylen followed after Galen, with Remi, Nyrene and Corbel at his back. He allowed himself a split second of panic before he got down to business.

"Where's the Knight-Commander?" Rylen barked.

"Don't know!"

"Knight-Captain?"

Galen shook his head frantically. "I only found out because I was in my way down to the basement to visit Kelli. The whole library... up in flames. Mages were trying to contain it, but..."

Rylen came to a sudden halt. "The fire's on the second floor?" A pale-faced Galen nodded. "It will block everyone's exit."

Galen's face paled further as he nodded again. The panic flared brighter, but Rylen smothered it. He had to _think._

"What do we do?" Nyrene asked in a shaky voice.

When no one answered, Rylen looked up to find all four templars looking at him... At which point it occurred to him that he was the ranking templar in the group. He swallowed hard. Then got to it.

"Corbel and Nyrene, get up to the top floor. Sweep all the rooms. Pound on the doors and yell for everyone to evacuate, but don't stop. Once you've covered that floor, go down two floors and get everyone there. Send people out as quickly as you can. Then get out. Got it?"

"Yes, Knight-Lieutenant!"

"Go!"

They both scrambled for the stairs, and Rylen turned to Galen and Remi. "You two, do the same for this floor and the floors below."

Remi hesitated. "What about you?"

"I'm going to make sure we don't miss anyone."

She looked about to argue, but Rylen turned away with a barked order to get to it. He followed after Corbel and Nyrene, his heart pounding harder in his chest as the acrid smell of charred paper wafted up the stairwell.

A wispy layer of smoke hung in the air on the top floor, and Rylen choked a little as he scoured the floor after the other two. He came across a few bleary-eyed, night-shift templars and directed them down the stairs. When he was satisfied the floor was cleared, he headed down.

He kept it up for the next eight floors, occasionally catching a straggler and sending them packing. By the time he reached the third floor, a small group of mages had congregated at the stairwell. Only mages. No other templars. Rylen pushed his way through the group only to find the stairway blocked by debris.

"They were trying to stop the blaze with ice, but several bookcases shattered under the strain," a mage offered in a trembling voice. "They are trying to get through to us... At least... I _think_ they are."

Already, tendrils of smoke curled around the debris at the bottom of the stairs. Rylen growled and turned to the small group.

"Well I'm not keen on waiting for someone else to save us. What specialties do we have in the group?"

The mages looked around at each other, clearly terrified. Rylen growled again.

"'Tis a simple question! D'ye wish te save yerselves 'r not?"

"I'm focusing on ice magic," offered the same woman from before. Two others echoed her declaration.

"Excellent. You'll be making an ice tunnel for us all to get through. Anyone else?"

Rylen divided out the storm mages and tasked them with making rain. One of the fire mages revealed he knew some fire suppression glyphs he'd been working on as part of a larger spell.

"Though it's only theoretical," the mage warned. "I haven't tested it, yet."

"Well, you've got your chance today," Rylen said as he turned to the remaining mage, a petite elf with fiery red hair.

"And what do you do?"

She shrugged. "I'm going to move that debris for you."

He lifted a brow at her. "Force mage?"

"Aithlin, at your service, Knight-Lieutenant," she responded, giving him an exaggerated curtsey.

In no mood for theatrics, Rylen shook his head and looked down the stairs at the heavily smoking debris.

"Maker protect us. We're out of time," he murmured before raising his voice. "Alright everyone, here's the plan. We'll move forward as a group, clearing debris and keeping our group shielded by ice and rain as we go. We have to move quickly because..." Rylen paused as he looked at the group of mages. "Well, you all know your limits."

They nodded. Not one challenged him, not even the impertinent, red-haired Aithlin. He prayed to the Maker that he wasn't leading them all to their deaths.

Just then, the stones groaned under their feet, and the whole floor shuddered. Before the shudders stopped, Rylen spun on his heel and flew down the stairs, the mages not far behind. At the bottom, he reached for a beam blocking their path, but Aithlin stepped in his way, her arms raised and her back to him.

"Barriers!" she called out.

Rylen felt the hum of magic surround him. Layers of barriers built one over the other, and he looked around to see the barrier shimmering around each person. A few seconds later, one of the mages nodded.

"Now!" one of the other mages shouted.

Two of the elemental mages raised their hands, and an ear-popping drop in air pressure followed by a burst of air nearly lifted them all off their feet. Aithlin pushed out with her hands, and debris blew out of the passage...

A roaring inferno flooded the stairway, enveloping them all in a barrage of heat and flames and smoke. Rylen felt the barriers around him weaken as flames buffeted against the magic, and shrieks of terror filled the stairwell. At least one elemental mage had kept their head, however, because rain suddenly descended upon them.

Rylen cursed aloud as the potentially fatal flaw in his plan became apparent when water hissed and exploded into billowing clouds of superheated steam. The entire group began coughing as the steam mixed with the noxious gases that had been trapped in the library.

"Everyone! On the floor!" Rylen bellowed through his own hacking. "Breathe through cloth if you can."

He wasn't sure if the mages could hear him over the thunder of fire and exploding water, but he dropped to the ground, unable to keep himself upright from the spasming in his lungs. If the mixture of steam, smoke and water hadn't already rendered him blind, his own tears would have done so now.

"Quickly!" he rasped. "Move to the left!"

They crawled together into the wider space of the former library and then moved toward the tower's outer wall. What had effectively become a steam storm still raged around them, each elemental mage casting at intervals to keep the thin layer of protection in place. The steam and smoke seemed to rise in the tall room, however, and Rylen moved to the front of the group as he wiped away the soot and tears blurring his vision.

"More barriers!" came a hoarse shout from the back - Aithlin he thought.

Rylen squinted into the mist and saw that the fire had indeed concentrated on the bookcases to their right, which left the way to the stairs relatively free. The heat and smoke from the fire, however, could kill them before they'd crawled the two hundred feet to freedom.

"Wall of ice to the right! Now!"

In response, a wall of ice rose up, and more hissing and popping and cracking filled their ears. The heat seemed to melt the ice almost as quickly as the mages could cast, but it afforded them a bit of relief from the flames as well as reprieve from the acrid air.

"Hold on to one another if you can!" he shouted. "And move quickly!"

Rylen felt a hand grasp his boot as he surged forward. The mages followed, casting when they could. A few moans of terror erupted each time the floor rumbled beneath them, and Rylen mentally calculated their odds of escaping the tower before it collapsed on them.

Not good.

Each breath became more difficult, his thoughts becoming hazy and detached. Each hand and knee forward became a rhythm of sheer determination even as his stomach lurched and threatened to empty then and there. A few times, the elemental mages ushered in a gust of fresher air, and he breathed in the sweet, relatively clear air with desperate inhalations. Each blast of air seemed to exacerbate the fire, however, so they stopped. They'd almost reached the stairwell when a desperate cry rose up from the back.

"Corinne has passed out! Someone help me!"

Rylen heard Aithlin take charge, her directions to the other mages ringing out behind him. Confident in the force mage's ability to wrangle the others and get everyone to the stairway, he broke away from the group to assess the rest of the route. They'd been lucky that nothing had obstructed their path up to this point, and if tears weren't already streaming down his face, he'd have cried with joy at the sight of a clear stairwell. The fire seemed to be pulling air up through the passage, and he breathed in with relish. He finally stood once more, though the smoke still wafted around them and burned his throat and eyes.

"Hurry now!" he croaked as loudly as his swollen throat would allow. "The stairway is just here!"

The mages rose from their hands and knees and ran by him swiftly now, each more desperate for fresh air than the last. Four mages brought up the rear, two of them dragging between them a mage he assumed was Corinne. Aithlin brought up the rear. She pulled a cloth from her mouth and jerked her head forward.

"That's all of them! Go!"

Rylen shook his head. "You first!"

The elf had the audacity to roll her eyes at him, but she didn't stop to argue. Rylen took one last look back to make sure they gotten everyone.

And that was his downfall.

The wooden beam fell without warning, crashing into his left side and pinning him to the floor in a matter of seconds. His armor offered some protection from the impact, but the red-hot coals clinging to the burning beam heated that same armor to excruciating levels.

A scream tore through Rylen's raw throat as the steel burned into his skin. A noise to his left cut through the haze of pain, and he peered through bleary eyes to find Aithlin standing in the stairway.

"Get out you damn fool!" he yelled at her, though weakly.

"Without you?" she snapped back. "Not likely, Knight-Lieutenant."

She'd already begun moving her hands, and with a lift and a shove of her arms, the beam lifted away from him and disappeared into the expanding black and orange inferno beyond. He tried to get up, but he felt drunk, the pain from before replaced with numbness.

"Lucky for your bulky templar ass, I know hauling spells."

Rylen thought he might have laughed at this, but his brain had disconnected from his body, so he couldn't really tell. He fell in and out of consciousness as she pulled him with her magic the last few feet to the stairs and then down and out into the cool night.

"More survivors!"

"Grab her!"

"Don't let her escape! We've lost enough of them in the chaos as it is!"

"Is that the Knight-Lieutenant?"

"He's injured - get him to the healers immediately!"

The last thing he remembered before falling into unconsciousness was the look of resignation in Aithlin's eyes as two templars led her off into the night.

 

**

 

_Three weeks later_

"You're lucky to be alive, Knight-Lieutenant. What were you thinking, risking your life like that? And for what? A few mages? You should have evacuated immediately with the rest of the Circle."

An agitated Knight-Captain Randall paced from wall to wall in the small room that had become the infirmary in their makeshift "Circle" provided by the Chantry. Rylen watched from under hooded lids, trying to feign the exhaustion that, in the past, had served to rid him of this particular unwanted guest. This time, however, Randall didn't seem to be falling for it.

Only a few people besides Rylen remained in the room as they recovered from injuries sustained in the fire - three of the mages he'd led out of the tower along with a few templars and mages closest to the fire when it had broken out in the library. Corbel, Galen, Nyrene and Remi had all made it out safely, thank the Maker, and came to visit him when their duties allowed. Remi had also made him some rather graphic promises of what she'd do to him if he'd only get better. 

The healers had done as much as they could for the burns extending from Rylen's torso to his knee on the left side of his body, but they still didn't know if he'd recover the use of his left leg. Too early to tell, they said.

But then again, Corinne hadn't made it at all, so what did he have to complain about?

The familiar pang of regret hit him as he knew it would, and before he'd thought better of it, he sighed aloud. Randall stopped in his tracks.

"Are you listening to me?"

"Of course, Knight-Captain," Rylen responded automatically in a rough voice.

His throat still burned if he tried to speak too much, which had come in handy during the other interrogations from the Knight-Commander and the Seekers who had arrived to investigate the fire. Rylen had told them as much as he could before descending into coughing fits. They'd left him alone after that.

What Rylen had yet to learn - what no one would bother to tell him - was what had happened to Aithlin. He'd made sure both the Knight-Commander and the Seekers knew of her leadership, bravery and self-sacrifice. Each time, they'd only look at one another and murmur some empty platitude.

"I'd be more apt to listen if you'd tell me what I want to know," Rylen finally snapped.

He then opened his eyes wide, as did Randall. They blinked at one another for a moment before Rylen finally threw up his hands in defeat.

"Fuck it all! I'm sorry, Randall, but I need to know what has happened to Aithlin. I don'na need to be coddled like a wee child. Just _tell_ me."

Randall's jaw clenched, his features contorting in fury. "That _mage_ again! What do you care?"

"That _mage_ saved my fucking life! I didn't know her from a hole in the ground before she dragged my ass out of that blazing inferno, but she risked her life to get me out. She could've left me. Could've escaped with the others..."

Randall's face had gone completely red, and he sputtered a few times before the words burst from his mouth like a viper's venom. "She _did_ escape, you damned fool! And she nearly killed two templars in the process! Yes, that's right. All this time, you've been bending over backward to praise a filthy apostate, and we don't even have her phylactery to find her. To find any of them!"

Randall's chest heaved with the force of his emotion, and Rylen could only stare at the man, dumbstruck. He hadn't expected her to remain with grace, of course. His brief moments with her had taught him not to expect that. But to harm templars while escaping... why then had she bothered to save him at all?

When Rylen didn't respond to Randall's tirade, the Knight-Captain finally took the hint and stalked out of the infirmary. Rylen could feel the gaze of every mage and templar in the room, but he adamantly focused on drilling a hole through his bed clothes with his eyes.

For the rest of the day, he went through the motions of recovery with the healers. His mind, however, reeled with the knowledge that the plucky mage had saved him... only to turn around and almost kill other templars a moment later.

Exhausted from the day's events, Rylen finally fell into a fitful slumber shortly after the sun had gone down. He woke in the middle of the night to a vaguely familiar voice hissing at him from the darkness.

"Pssst! Wake up, you lazy ass!"

He shifted on the cot without thinking, and sucked in a sharp breath as a wave of pain crashed through him. A tsking sound erupted into the stillness of the night.

"Well, you're still a mess, aren't you?"

Finally, his brain caught up with his instincts. "Aithlin?" he whispered.

A dim mage light sparked to life a few feet from him, illuminating a swath of red hair and a rather cheeky grin. For an apostate on the run, he had to admit she looked rather well.

"What in the Void are you doing here?" he hissed at her. "Randall will give you the brand for sure if he catches you."

"And whose fault is that?" she murmured back. "If you hadn't waxed poetic about me to those Seekers, no one would have remembered I existed."

Rylen ground his teeth as the ingrained urge to wake everyone and capture the apostate nearly won out over his sense of gratitude. He should call out. He should-

"Don't even think about it, templar. I'd be out of here before you could shout 'apostate.'"

"Why are you here, then, lass? You're taking a great risk."

For the first time since she'd provided that tiny glow, her eyes flitted away from him, and her smile faltered. "Randall greatly exaggerated the tale of my escape, you know?"

"How did you-?" He stopped and shook his head. "Nevermind. I don't think I want to know."

Her eyes darted back to him at this and the grin returned. "You're smarter than I gave you credit for, templar."

"Sooo..." he drew out softly. "You're risking your freedom to make sure I know your escape wasn't as impressive as I was led to believe?"

She shrugged. "I just thought you should know I never meant to harm them. Not really. I only threw them far enough that they couldn't silence me. That one of them hit their head on a rock and bled a little... well, I didn't intend for that to happen. And they're both fine, now, by the way."

"You're ridiculous, lass. You realize you're close enough for me to silence you right now?"

"You won't."

"Oh?"

"Mmm-Hmmm."

And she was right. He wouldn't, though the main reason for that boiled down to the fact that he'd probably pass out if he tried. Their eyes met, and he held her gaze for a moment before raising his brows.

"Well. Thank you for telling me."

She nodded without breaking eye contact, her grin widening. "Had to defend my honor to the soon-to-be Starkhaven Knight-Captain, didn't I?"

Rylen's brain stopped for a moment before racing ahead without him. He opened his mouth to speak, but she merely blew a kiss at him and extinguished her mage light.

"Aithlin?" he hissed into the sudden darkness. "Lass? Where'd you go?"

He waited in silence for any indication of her departure, but all remained still. Finally, he accepted that she'd found some way to enter and exit without a sound and settled back on his cot.

Sleep proved elusive, however, as Aithlin's words echoed over and over in his mind late into the night. Rylen could only surmise that the Seekers' investigation had revealed some sort of gross misconduct or abdication of duty within the Circle. Randall's anger and attempts to shift blame certainly made far more sense if the man feared losing his position.

Rylen shifted uncomfortably on the narrow cot as he considered the possibility that they would actually make him Knight-Captain. Randall had always been a somewhat ineffectual leader, gaining his position through politics and family name rather than through ability. Rylen, though his surname gave him some leverage, had earned his promotion to Knight-Lieutenant through hard work, even overcoming a rather poor start with the Order to earn the position.

Knight-Captain Rylen. It did have a certain ring to it.

His final thought before falling asleep was that he'd have to get better at mage hunting if he were going to be a Knight-Captain.


	2. Too much water under the bridge (Marian)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke encounters a former associate while on her way to meet with Varric and the Inquisition.

"Is… Isabella?"

The woman on the next pier turned to reveal sparkling brown eyes and a familiar smirk. Hawke hadn't needed confirmation, though.

_As if anyone within a hundred yards of Isabella could fail to recognize her._

Hawke had spoken more out of surprise than anything, but as Isabella's gaze locked onto her, she wished she'd kept quiet. What good could come from a stilted conversation? After what had passed between them, things could only ever be awkward.

Even with the distance, Hawke saw Isabella's eyes widen. A moment later, however, a wide grin spread across the pirate's face.

"Well, well, if it isn't the infamous Marian Hawke."

Four years ago, someone calling out her name like that in Kirkwall might have given Hawke pause. But the slow grind of time - and a larger explosion in Ferelden - had reduced the danger to manageable levels. Hawke wouldn't be in Kirkwall for long anyway.

"I see you got your hat."

Hawke internally cringed at her own brittle tone. Years had passed, but Isabella's betrayal and desertion ran deep, it seemed.

Isabella preened, touching the brim of the ridiculously large hat. The copious plumes and ribbons should have looked ostentatious, but paired with hazelnut skin and chunky gold jewellery, Isabella looked as beautiful, and defiant, as ever.

"It's something, isn't it? Not as many feathers as I'd like, but I suppose I could always add more."

"I suppose."

The inane conversation wore at Hawke's patience. She turned her eyes to the bay as if watching for her ship, though she knew it wouldn't be docking for another couple of hours. It was a dismissal, and Isabella would be smart enough to get it.

"Got time for a drink?"

Hawke looked over, her eyes widening slightly in surprise and then narrowing in suspicion. "Why?"

Isabella raised her hands and let out a strained laugh. "For old times' sake?"

It would only end in disappointment. But when had she been anything but a glutton for punishment? Her shoulders sagged under her cloak.

She said nothing - merely cocked her head toward the nearest tavern. The run-down bar served mostly as a watering hole for sailors passing through. They'd be safer there than at the Hanged Man, where someone might recognize either of them.

Isabella had stood too far away to make out her expression, but as they met at the end of their respective piers, Hawke thought she detected a note of hesitancy on the pirate's face, as if she distrusted Hawke's acceptance. They continued on in silence, side-by-side, to the Singing Siren.

To Hawke's surprise, Isabella paid for both their drinks and then led them to a table in a dim corner. Daylight seeped through the filthy windows, illuminating the hesitant expression on Isabella's face.

"Well, here we are."

Hawke took a swig of her ale and grimaced. "Yep. And apparently the ale has actually gotten worse since the last time I was here."

Isabella hummed out a laugh as she took a drink. "Can't expect the good stuff in a tavern built for sailors and pirates."

"Any port in a storm, right?"

The muscles around Isabella's eyes tightened at the subtle dig, but otherwise, she kept her smirk in place. "That's right. What've you been up to?"

"This and that."

"With Fenris?"

"Of course."

Isabella sat up and pointedly looked around. "Left the grumpy elf with the luggage, did you?"

Hawke rolled her eyes. "Oh, yes, he's keeping an eye on the trunks full of jewels as we speak."

"Ahh, there's that sarcasm I've missed."

Had she? Hawke doubted it. She took another swig of the piss the bartender called ale before continuing.

"He had something he needed to do… up north. We're going to meet up again in a few months. What about you?"

Isabella waved a hand in dismissal. "Oh, legal things. Illegal things. Same old, same old."

"I take it you made a deal with Castillon?"

A dangerous topic, but subtlety had never been Hawke strong suit. Isabella's smirk grew strained.

"In a way," she hedged. She took a long pull from her mug before changing the subject. "I assume you weren't haunting the docks merely in hopes of seeing me. Where are you headed?"

"Some would say to the Void," Marian quipped.

"But you're really just heading south to see Varric," Isabella shot back.

Hawke's gaze darted up from where she'd been staring into her mug. Isabella's smirk widened to a feral grin.

"I knew it! You just can't stay away from each other, can you?"

"Of course not. He's my best friend."

Isabella snorted but said nothing. She slouched in her chair, hooking an elbow over the back. Hawke narrowed her gaze.

"How did you know Varric went south?"

Isabella raised a hand to examine her nails. "I make it a point to keep track."

Hawke gaped at Isabella. "Why?"

The pirate shrugged. "As a fellow smuggler, he's a handy person to know."

Hawke didn't know what to do with that information. Had Varric been in contact with Isabella all along? He had the right to do as he pleased, of course, but the thought left her hollow, like someone had scooped out her insides.

"Yes, that makes sense," Hawke ground out, her patience for niceties finally at an end. "As long as it benefits you somehow, it's worthwhile. If not, fuck everyone else, right?"

Isabella had picked up her mug to drink, but at Hawke's words, she slowly lowered it back to the table.

"I don't know what I was expecting," she murmured, looking toward the dirty window. Her eyes slid to Hawke before her head followed. "If you were looking for an apology, I'm afraid I'm fresh out, sugar."

"I'm not looking for anything, _sugar_. You're the one who invited me here. If you have something to say, just say it."

Isabella's jaw clenched, but otherwise, her expression remained calm. "So good to know you still care."

Hawke's fist shook the table with the force of its impact. "I _did_ care! That's what nearly got me killed!"

Isabella leaned forward. "And which time would that be? There're so many, I've lost count."

Hawke had known this was a mistake, but the speed at which they'd devolved into this… cat fight astounded even her. She stood and took a step away from the table.

"You could've-" Her voice broke, and she sucked in a breath to cover it. "-could've stayed. You could've helped me _fix_ things. But you chose to run. Chose to leave me to deal with the Arishok alone. We may not have always agreed on things, but I thought-"

She cut off, ashamed to have revealed so much to a woman who clearly didn't care. Hawke let the anger wash away her hurt.

"You and I have nothing more to say, I think."

Something like regret flashed over Isabella's face. "Hawke, I'm s-"

But Hawke refused to acknowledge whatever apology Isabella had apparently found stuffed in a back pocket somewhere after all. She was was already out the door, the haze of red blocking out everything. She wouldn't let herself be taken for a ride again. She wouldn't be Isabella's fool _again_.

Next time she and Isabella crossed paths - _if_ they crossed paths - she'd keep her Maker-damned mouth shut.


End file.
